


Pinkish in Color Again

by redbranch



Series: You're Still a Part of Me [2]
Category: Bandom, Frank Iero and the Patience, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Band Fic, Fluff, Frerard, M/M, Polyamory, Romance, Touring, present day, so sweet i'm gonna vomit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-14
Updated: 2018-04-02
Packaged: 2019-03-04 13:33:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13365774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redbranch/pseuds/redbranch
Summary: In September 2017, Frank and Gerard both find themselves in Leeds at the same time and decide to make the most of it.Or, the one where Gerard gets a tattoo.Disclaimer: This is completely and utterly a work of fiction.





	1. I’m on Top of the World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank wakes up with Gerard in Leeds, and Gerard asks him for a favor.

“Frank, get the damn guitar on stage,” came a harsh whisper in his ear, and Frank hurriedly rushed to finish tuning. He just needed another second. Just one more second, but the black bear on stage was getting testy, shooting Frank glares and beginning to dribble spit out the side of his mouth like he wanted to bite Frank’s face off, which Frank knew he definitely could because he’d done it to another tech before. 

“Frank!” 

Fuck. He ran to the stage, handing over the guitar, which the bear snatched back with a snarl, and nearly ran into the gorilla bassist on his way back, but before he could get back to side stage, someone pushed him, and he was falling, crowdsurfing, dozens of paws of all types rolling him and pushing him across the crowd, and normally Frank would hate this but something about it felt really nice. Maybe all the fur. And then he wasn’t on top of the crowd anymore but in the middle of it, still being passed along through it, brushing against warm furry bodies and everything felt like a hug. 

And then it started to go fuzzy around the edges, and Frank started to become surprisingly conscious of his own head. 

_“Ungh.”_

The first thing Frank heard was a desperate whimper escaping his own lips as he surfaced out of sleep. Tingling warmth was running through him from his head to his toes, like he was floating on top of a rippling lake of hot apple cider, and he couldn’t figure out why until he heard a quiet whispering close to his ear, and suddenly the warmth receded, coalescing into specific points of heat. Soft warmth on his neck, against his side, something feverishly hot on his hip. And then there was a sensation Frank wouldn’t ever be able to mistake for anything else, even if he was in a coma: the feeling of warm fingers wrapping around his dick. He let out a low moan and his eyes flew open as his hips bucked into the hand automatically. 

Gerard hummed from his position behind him, separating his lips from Frank’s neck long enough to say, “Morning, Frankie,” before going back to sucking on his throat, his hand moving lazily on Frank’s cock. 

Frank’s brain was a step behind, the ability to form words escaping him so all he could say in return was a breathy, “Ahhh...” 

Gerard didn’t seem to mind, humming again contentedly as he traced the roses above Frank’s collarbones with his lips. “Sleep well?” he asked casually, though the hungry look in his eyes when he glanced up at Frank’s face was decidedly not casual. And it was only then that Frank realized that the heat on his hip was Gerard’s erection pressing against him through the thin fabric of his sleep pants.

“Uh huh,” Frank gasped out. He bucked into Gerard’s hand again, dying for some real friction. “M-more,” he finally managed. His voice was higher and a lot more ragged than he would have liked, his desire blatant.

Gerard made a noise like he was considering it and then acquiesced, tightening his grip and increasing his speed only slightly. To Frank it still felt tortuously slow, and his hips thrust the rhythm he wanted on instinct, chasing his own orgasm if Gerard wasn’t going to get him there himself. “Frankie, wait,” he said, and he shifted from his position of half-spooning Frank to climb on top of him, straddling his thighs. He pinned Frank’s hips with a firm hand and Frank whined in frustration. 

“What the fuck, Gerard? What the fuck?” he nearly sobbed. Gerard did a piss poor job of hiding a little half smile at Frank’s predicament, and Frank glared at him. Waking someone up with sex was just rude when you wouldn’t let them get off. 

He leaned down and pressed a sweet, chaste kiss to Frank’s lips as if that would earn him forgiveness, and to Frank’s disappointment he kept his grip steady on his hips when he tried to take advantage of the opportunity to catch Gerard off-guard. “I want to talk to you about something,” he said, kissing down Frank’s jaw before bending to suck one of nipples into his mouth.

Frank arched into Gerard’s touch automatically and took in a sharp breath as his head lolled back in pleasure. “Wha-now?” he asked through panting breaths. “Can’t it--can’t it wait?” If Gerard would just commit to getting him off, he wouldn’t even have to wait that long. In this state, Frank wouldn’t need much more than a minute. 

Gerard ignored the question, teeth grazing his nipple as he pulled off, making Frank shudder. “I want you to do something for me while we’re in Leeds,” he said, moving back up to suck at Frank’s neck right under his jawline. “A favor.” His hand blessedly sped up on Frank’s cock as if that would make him more amenable to whatever favor Gerard was asking for, and fuck, he wasn’t wrong.

“Anything,” Frank gasped. He reached up to knot his fingers in the hair at the base of Gerard’s skull, trying to keep him in place once he’d found one of the sensitive spots on Frank’s neck. “Anything, anything. Just… please, Gee.”

Frank felt him smile against his neck, the fucker, and he didn’t miss the way Gerard was canting his hips forward, pressing his erection into his thigh. At least Frank wasn’t the only one who needed to come. There was some comfort in that.

Some. 

Despite Frank’s best efforts, Gerard did pull away from his neck, sitting up to look him in the face. “I want a tattoo.”

Frank blinked. For a brief moment his brain managed to overcome his dick as he tried to process that request. If there was one person on Earth he could have bet on to never get a tattoo, it would have been Gerard. He hated needles, hated permanence, hated the very concept of a sterile environment and the idea of having to keep any part of himself clean for any decent length of time. Why did he want a tattoo now? Why did he think the best time to tell Frank about was when he was naked and hard and about to come? Why was the idea of Gerard with a tattoo so fucking hot? 

The moment of lucidity was quickly lost when Gerard’s fingers dipped down to caress his balls before pumping Frank in earnest, giving him the friction he’d been craving. Frank’s eyes rolled back and he let out a loud moan. His brain slipped back to its place in the backseat, and all his thoughts came out at once, half-baked and garbled. Something like, “You.. why… needles and--oh fuck, Gerard, don’t stop--thought you hated… never--ah!” 

Suddenly there was a hand in Frank’s hair, yanking his head back to kiss him hard. Gerard’s tongue plunged deep into his mouth, and finally Frank’s hips were free to move the way he wanted to, thrusting and moaning into Gerard’s mouth. He was so close he could almost taste it, the tightness in his belly beginning to build. 

Another tug on his hair, and Gerard was pulling back, separating his lips from Frank’s ever so slightly. “That’s not the favor,” he said shakily, his breath hitching. Frank felt Gerard’s dick rubbing against his thigh at the same pace, hot and desperate. A crease in his brow had begun to form as he looked at Frank with lust-darkened eyes. “I want you to do it, Frankie. I want you to give it to me,” he said. 

If anyone asked, he would be adamant that the fact that he came at just that moment was only a coincidence and definitely not due to the fact that Gerard had somehow just uttered one of the hottest sentences Frank had ever heard. As it was, Frank clutched onto his shoulders, biting down onto his neck to stifle his noises as he came into Gerard’s hand. He floated for a while, lost in the high of it, and when he came down, Gerard was still panting and twitchy on top of him, rocking against him and making small whimpering sounds. Despite his bones feeling like jelly, Frank found the energy somewhere inside of him to kiss Gerard sweetly on the lips before rolling them over so Gerard was underneath him. 

He tugged down his sleep pants roughly and folded himself down to plant one more kiss on Gerard’s belly before taking him into his mouth without any particular finesse. Gerard didn’t seem to need it though, gasping at the feeling of Frank’s wet mouth around him before groaning as he thrust up into him. There was no hesitation. By this point, Gerard knew how Frank could take it, knew that he _liked_ to. It helped that he was sleepy, sated, and therefore pliable enough to move however Gerard directed him. He moaned around the cock in his mouth, hollowing his cheeks and letting Gerard use him how he wanted, which today was fast and clumsy and deep. It didn’t take long for Gerard to break after starting to fuck Frank’s mouth, grabbing onto his hair and crying out as he emptied down his throat only a few minutes later. Frank swallowed it all contentedly and pillowed his head on Gerard’s thigh when it was done, both of their chests heaving as they caught their breath.

“A tattoo, huh?” Frank said, voice hoarse, from his resting place on Gerard’s thigh. 

There was hesitation before Frank heard an answering “Uh huh” from Gerard, and Frank could hear the nerves present in the undertone of his voice. He turned his head, pressing a kiss to Gerard’s thigh, and then started the trek upward. A kiss on his hip, on his softening dick, his belly, his ribs, his chest, his throat, until Frank was pressed against his side, cupping his face and pulling him into a gentle kiss, their mouths moving slowly and tenderly against each other. Frank brushed the hair out of Gerard’s eyes when they pulled apart and stroked the sides of his face with his thumbs, enjoying the flush that was still in his cheeks. 

“Why?” he asked. Gerard was beautiful, almost unfairly so, and though it always seemed a bit unusual for someone like him to be tattoo-free, especially after Mikey got one, Frank had always kind of liked the untouched perfection of his skin, so different from his own. With so many tats, it was like Frank’s skin was always shouting, demanding attention and challenging anyone who questioned it. There was something understated and nice about the clean blankness of Gerard. It made him seem more vulnerable, stark naked in a way Frank could never be anymore. And he appreciated that. 

That being said, the idea of him getting a tattoo--Frank _giving_ him that tattoo--made Frank’s mouth water. Even though he liked Gerard the way he was, he definitely had fantasized about what he would look like with some ink, and hearing that he actually wanted one felt like Christmas had come early.

Gerard was chewing on his lip, considering Frank for a moment before dropping his gaze to the bedsheets. “I just… I think it’s silly to still have a fear like that. An arbitrary one. When there are so many other real things to be afraid of. And I…” He trailed off for a moment, eyeing the tattoos on Frank’s bicep before reaching out to trace them: his grandfather’s drum kit, LOYALTY, the chainsaw. Frank felt his skin zinging under his touch. “I’ve always really liked yours,” he finished.

Frank’s heart thudded in his chest and he caught Gerard’s hand, bringing it up to his lips to kiss his fingers. “Well, we do have a machine on the bus,” he said, pondering for a moment. A twitch of Gerard’s lips told Frank that he knew damn well he had a machine on the bus and that he’d already factored it in before he’d even asked. How very Gerard. “Okay,” he said with a grin, turning his hand over to press his lips to his wrist. “I’d love to.”

Gerard smiled, and it felt like the sun on Frank’s face. “Thanks.” 

Frank kissed his collarbones, his chest. “Don’t mention it,” he murmured into his skin. His fingers traveled along Gerard’s sides, over his hips, as he tried to imagine a dark shape against the white of his skin, how the ink would move, how it would feel under his fingers. “What do you want to get?” he asked, glancing up at Gerard. “You know… I’m not some great tattoo artist or anything. I’m happy to do it, but you could get something really nice from a shop if you wanted.”

Gerard hesitated, running his hands through Frank’s hair absentmindedly as he chewed on his lip. “I know. But that’s not really the point I think. And I, uhh… I’m not sure yet. About what I want to get. I haven’t decided,” he confessed. Frank raised an eyebrow at him and he rushed to correct himself, “I mean, I’ve thought about it. A lot. I just don’t want it to be too… y’know, cliche or stupid or, God, too on the fucking nose. Like an alien or a bat or something, fucking kill me.”

Frank sat up and felt his face settling into one of those “dad faces” he gave his kids when they tried to sell him on a weird, white lie, like that they couldn’t go to school today because it had been swallowed up in a sinkhole. “Gerard, are you kidding me? You want a tattoo out of the blue and don’t know what you want?” He almost felt like laughing but managed to hold back. 

“Hey, I’m working on it,” Gerard said, defensively. “I’ll pick something. Eventually.” He rolled away from Frank and slid off the bed, giving Frank an eyeful of his ass as he padded to the bathroom, which Frank appreciated.

“Uh huh. I’m sure you will, honey,” Frank said with a smirk, and he was rewarded with a middle finger from Gerard appearing from around the bathroom door. 

Frank leaned back against the bed, arms behind his head as he listened to the sound of the tap running while Gerard got cleaned up. He felt the beginnings of jitters thrumming under his fingers. He’d done tattoos, sure, but not as many as, like, an actual artist, and none that felt so consequential. Certainly none on virgin skin. He trusted Gerard when he said he wanted it from Frank, but fuck, it was a lot of pressure.

The tap shut off and Frank turned to Gerard just as he emerged with a wet washcloth. “Hey,” he said, reaching for it out of habit. “Where did you want to get it anyway?” 

Gerard opened and shut his mouth, his ears beginning to turn pink. “I… don't....”

“Oh my fucking God.” 

This time Frank couldn’t help but laugh, and he didn’t stop even when Gerard threw the washcloth at him and it landed on his stomach with a wet smack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At first I wanted to wait until this fic was fully completed before posting, but it was taking too long and I'm impatient, so here's a chapter instead.


	2. Like Crazy Rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cassette tapes, Nando's, and an unexpected phone call

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to ViciousVenin for giving me a good-natured kick in the ass and everyone who left supportive comments. That really drives me to finish something. This one is short, but more fun things will happen in the next chapter (including actual tattooing!)

_i know i said no bats but maybe a bat??_

__

__

_no. nvm, no bats_

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_but maybe a fiend skull !!!_

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_You can get that for ur 2nd tat_

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_what about moss? like its growing on me. like i’m an ent or something_

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_Just… no_

Frank chuckled to himself and slid his phone into his back pocket as he kneeled on the bus floor, carefully packing the tattoo machine into its case. Gerard had been texting him tattoo ideas ever since he’d left the hotel after getting breakfast with him. It was cute. He was excited. But at the same time Frank was deeply concerned about some of the ideas he threw out there that didn’t quite seem to be jokes, like the Aladdin Sane cat (“Two awesome things in one”), the literal pile of guts (“Hardcore as hell”), and principally the deified coffee bean concept he kept returning to once every hour, each time with a new detail. “The halo is latte foam,” he’d written. The script at the bottom was supposed to read “Deus ex Caffeina.” The frame would be the two tails of the Starbucks mermaid, with her perched angelically at the top. Frank had so far managed to fend him off with protestations about corporate logos and substances, but he knew part of Gerard was still wedded to it. 

Frank wasn’t even sure an actual tattoo artist could pull off a halo of foam. 

His phone buzzed in his pocket, and his hand moved to pull it out again automatically.

_just the word “bitchin” in gothic script_

__

__

Frank smirked, imagining it on Gerard’s lower back. Something that would peek out of his shirt whenever he bent over or reached to get something above his head. Something Frank could run his thumbs over when he grabbed his hips...

God, tramp stamps were really underrated. 

__

_OK. I’ll bring a stencil_

__

__

He slid the phone back in his pocket and snapped the case shut. They had plans to meet up after Gerard had gotten back from Thought Bubble. If the band thought it was strange that he wasn’t spending his nights in the same high street hotel with them, they hadn’t said anything about it. It had been an easy sell for Cara: one less room to book was a win-win. She had only reiterated that if he didn’t make it in time to be on the bus with them to Manchester that she’d introduce Truck Nutz to the UK using his own nuts on the bus’s back bumper. 

She was so small, but so vicious. 

His phone buzzed again.

_nvm_

__

__

“Why do you look so happy?” 

Evan’s voice coming from behind him made Frank jump and drop his phone.

“Jesus, fuck, Evan! Are you a ghost? How did you fucking do that?” Frank looked at him incredulously as he gathered his wits again, and Evan just gave him a shit-eating grin in return. 

“What can I say? I’m a master of stealth.” Frank snorted as he picked his phone back up and slipped it into his pocket, sitting up with the packed away tattoo machine in his hands. “Alex, Matt, and Cara went to the river to feed some swans. And I… you know, birds…” Evan flailed his hand vaguely like that gesture should mean something to Frank, and somehow it actually did. Evan was a lot of things--funny, loyal, great at making grilled cheeses--but he was also deathly, _deathly_ afraid of birds, almost to a point that would be hilarious if he didn’t spiral into very real, very stressful panic attacks upon encountering them.

“Yeah,” Frank said, truly sympathetic. It’s not like he was much better with spiders. 

“And swans are like, fucking huge. They’re _big_. Big fucking birds with those fucking wings and beaks...” Evan winced and shuddered. “Yeah, fuck that. Listen, I know you’re hanging out with Gerard for a while, but I thought if you had time you might want to explore, maybe hit up some record stores.”

Frank felt a grin tug at the corner of his mouth. “Dude, of course,” he said. He shoved the tattoo machine case in his backpack and zipped it up, finally getting to his feet, and, oh, his knees were definitely not as young as they used to be. They cracked like pop rocks as he straightened up. Falling onto a stage a few hundred times will do that to you. 

Evan snickered as Frank winced, and he shot him a dirty look. “Yeah, talk to me when you get to my age, Nestor.”

“Dude, I’m only like six years younger than you,” he said as he followed Frank out of the lounge.

Frank glowered. “Shut up,” he muttered. 

“Who are you tattooing anyway?” Evan asked, gesturing to his bag. 

“Oh, you know,” Frank said with a shrug, blinking in the light as he stepped off the bus and held the door open for his brother-in-law. “Just some poor, unsuspecting fuck.” 

\----

Spending the day with Evan was great, not like Frank ever thought it wouldn’t be. They bought too many records, enough that Frank knew Jamia would sigh at him when he lugged them all home. He was approaching having to build a new set of shelves soon. 

They even came across a few cassette tapes, which were a Thing again, apparently. A Thing Frank was skeptical about because he remembered cassettes as being kind of shit, easy to ditch for CDs when they started becoming popular. It was just what was available at the time. But now cassettes were trendy again and apparently Evan was into them, because Evan was always a lot hipper than Frank when it came to these kinds of things, and they found themselves sitting in a park, using a headphone splitter to listen to The Damned’s _Strawberries_ on an honest-to-God Walkman. The sun was going in and out, the clouds casting shifting shadows on the grass and the dirt paths and the passersby out for a walk or taking a shortcut back to their flat. It was one of Frank’s favorite parts of touring: these rare, unexpected moments of stillness in unfamiliar places. He felt the novelty of it, sure, but a part of him also felt that somehow he’d been transported right back to Jersey. 

They parted company in the evening, Frank saying he had plans with Gerard, which was true, but probably not in the way Evan expected. He’d texted Frank to tell him not to wait up, that he should grab himself some food because he still had some loose ends to tie up at Thought Bubble before he would be back. Which Frank didn’t mind. It was rare he got to wander around on his own, and it also meant he had a good excuse to pop into Nando’s, which was a fucking revelation because for a chicken place, they had some killer veggie options and sides, and Frank had long decided that he wanted to go out by being drowned in a vat of peri-peri sauce. 

He got it to go, walking the few blocks back to Gerard’s hotel in case he got back early, because as much as he did enjoy being alone, getting to spend time with Gerard was rare these days. 

The elevator dinged when he got to the right floor, and he headed down the hallway, fishing out the spare room key Gerard had given him and unlocking the door, one-handed, and before he’d even gotten to close it, his phone buzzed in his pocket again. He expected it to be Gerard, maybe Evan or Cara, but when he finally managed to free his hands up enough to grab it, the name on the screen was a surprise.

“Hey, Linds,” he said as he put his stuff down and tried to ignore the butterflies in his stomach. There was no reason to be nervous, he knew that. But it’s sort of a gut reaction when the wife of the person you’re sleeping with calls out of the blue. 

“Hey, Frankie,” she said pleasantly. She didn’t _seem_ upset, at least. “I hear you’re tattooing our boy.” 

Oh fuck. 

Frank swallowed hard. This felt a lot like when his mom would catch him smoking in the house. Suddenly it felt like the entire desert was in his mouth. “Uhh… yeah. I just, uhh… He said he wanted one and I’ve, you know, got a machine and, uhh… I don’t know what he wants yet exactly, I mean we’ve talked about coffee beans and guts and stuff but that’s, you know, dumb, and… I mean, is it… is it… cool?” The words spilled out of his mouth in a nervous heap. Frank hadn’t thought they would need to ask for permission, but maybe permanently altering someone’s spouse was the kind of thing you should talk about. Fuck. 

She laughed, one of the great genuine laughs like peals of bells, and Frank instantly felt his tense muscles relax a little. “No! No!” she said between giggles. “No, I’m not calling to, like, chastise, you. Oh my God. Gerard can do whatever he wants. And I trust you. I just…” She hesitated for a moment and there was a sound like shuffling fabric over the line. “I guess I just called to ask… I mean, just make sure he’s okay. I know you do a good job of that anyway, but it just kind of surprised me when I heard about it. I mean, God, even Bandit’s better with needles than Gerard.”

“Anyone’s better with needles than Gerard,” Frank pointed out. “He nearly crushed my hand when he had to get a steroid injection in his shoulder before a show. Ray almost killed him.” 

She gave a short laugh again. “Right,” she said, before she lapsed into silence for another moment. “Just… I know it’s redundant to say it but… take care of him, okay?”

Frank smiled a little, and he felt his heart give a distinct squeeze. “I will. I promise,” he said sincerely. 

“Thanks, Frankie. I appreciate it.” There was a moment of amiable silence between them when Frank knew they were both thinking of Gerard in the exact same way: his open face, his wide smile, the determined look he got in eyes when he wanted to do something. Frank knew it sparked the same kind of protective affection in both of them. “Anyway,” she finally said, “I’ll let you go. Love to you both.” 

“You, too, Linds,” Frank replied, and they hung up. 

Frank felt lighter after the call. He hadn’t been anxious about how anyone else besides Gerard would feel about the tattoo, but it was nice to get some support. It was nice to know that Lindsey was on board, with the tattoo and with them, after being separated for so long. She’d seemed cool with it when they had both first told her, but small moments like that, when she’s checking in, when she’s excited for them, when she’s happy for them, it feels like there’s so much love in and around Frank that it’s going to burst out of him, bubble up and spill over like uncorked champagne. He loved that feeling. He lived for it. 

It made him feel like he was floating as he put the sides he’d gotten for Gerard in the mini-fridge and munched on his veggie burger on the bed. He’d convinced Evan to let him borrow his Walkman and see if this whole tape thing was really everything it was cracked up to be, and so he popped in a copy of _Disintegration_ he’d found at the record store and gave it a go. 

His phone buzzed again. 

_be back in 30 mins or so_

__

__

Frank smiled. 

__

_see you soon xo_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, Nando's, guys. Nando's.


	3. I Feel Everything All at Once

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some decisions are permanent.

It wasn’t long before Frank heard the click of the lock and the door being opened, and a wide smile split his face. 

“Figured out what you want yet?” he called out, sitting up on the bed. “And I’m warning you right now, I’m not giving you Fudge Lord. Or any variation of him.” 

“I… Yeah, I… I did actually,” he said. Frank heard the hesitance in his voice and looked up to see Gerard blushing and shuffling around anxiously near the closet as he started to peel his many layers away and slide them onto hangers. 

Frank got to his feet, closing the distance between them in no time so he could wrap his arms around Gerard and pull him in tight against his chest. “I’m just kidding,” he murmured, resting his head against his shoulder. “I’ll give you Fudge Lord. I’ll give you whatever you want. No judgment. I promise.” Suddenly he tasted guilt bitter and thick in his mouth. Maybe he misread all their exchanges. Maybe he shouldn’t have been making cracks about Gerard’s ideas all day.

Gerard covered Frank’s hands with his own and turned to flash Frank a reassuring smile. “I know. It’s just that… I mean… I want something… of yours?” He said it like a question, looking at Frank as if he were asking permission. 

“Of mine?” Frank asked curiously, stroking his thumb against the back of Gerard’s hand. “What does that mean?”

“It means I know if I draw something myself I’ll hate it eventually,” he said with a short laugh. “And you drew… Once, you drew this world with a heart above it that said ‘cover the earth’ and I… think that would be nice.”

Frank grinned automatically and turned to hide it in the fabric of Gerard’s shirt. The thought that Gerard wanted a drawing of his was doing strange, twisting things to his stomach. “The Sherwin-Williams thing?” he clarified. 

“Yeah.” Gerard turned in his arms to face him. He seemed more comfortable now, tracing his thumb along the shell of Frank’s ear, which made him tremble involuntarily. “I like it. I like the twist with the heart, and I like how you drew it. Will you do it?” he asked, winding his arms around Frank’s waist to pull him closer than he already was. 

“Yeah,” he breathed. The response was automatic. Being in Gerard’s space so much was intoxicating, the heat of their chests pressed together and his palms on Frank’s back, the herbal scent of his shampoo. A lot of people seemed to think Gerard didn’t shampoo, but they were wrong. He just didn’t brush his hair. He felt Gerard’s pinky against the suddenly bare small of his back, probably accidentally happening to find an area where his shirt had ridden up, but even that small contact made things start to go fuzzy. “Uhh…” he stammered, trying to remember what had been so important to say that he opened his mouth in the first place. “Wh-where do you want it?” 

Gerard’s face was wicked as he answered, “Left thigh,” and pressed it up between Frank’s legs as if to make a point. Frank sucked in a breath, resisting the urge to press back into Gerard even though he was _right there_ and it would be so easy. Just a tilt of his hips… 

“You know you’re still getting this tattoo even if you try and seduce me right? You can’t wiggle out of it so easy, Way,” he said, voice tight. Gerard’s answering pout told him all he needed to know. “Jesus, you’re transparent.” Frank smirked as Gerard’s grip on him loosened, and he took advantage of that to reach between them and quickly undo Gerard’s pants, pulling his belt open and his fly down like he was in a damn competition with Gerard staring in stunned silence until finally he could shove his jeans down to his knees. He wolf-whistled shamelessly and ran his hands down along his thighs, fingers spread wide. “Well,” he said, “better get to shaving old lefty here then.” He gave his left thigh a playful slap and Gerard let out a soft noise, not quite a moan, but also not NOT a moan. 

He looked at Frank, slightly dazed through half-lidded eyes, and maybe that had something to do with the fact that Frank was still running his fingers along his thighs, through the soft covering of hair there. Finally he shook his head and seemed to come out of it. “I hate you,” he said, frowning. 

Frank flashed him a wide grin. “Mm, that’s not true. You definitely love me.” 

“I can hate you and love you at the same time.” 

“Well now that’s impressive.” In one quick motion he bent to yank Gerard’s pants all the way down to his ankles and stepped back from him. “Come on now. Get to shaving and I’ll start sketching. Let’s get you inked.”

Gerard didn’t seem to share Frank’s enthusiasm, grumbling as he toed off his shoes and struggled out of his jeans. But he did as Frank asked and disappeared into the bathroom, leaving Frank to quietly freak out about the fact that they were actually going through with this alone. 

Whatever. He could do this. He could absolutely do this. He just had to take it one piece at a time, and right now that piece was drawing the damn thing, and he could for sure do that. All it took was putting an ink marker to a piece of transfer paper and not thinking about the water running behind the bathroom door. 

The piecemeal strategy was a good one. Frank got lost in tracing the outlines of the drawing from his memory, and it could have been five minutes or five hours from when he started that the bathroom door clicked open, and Gerard’s voice broke through his concentration, “I’m done.” 

“Cool. Come up here,” Frank said distractedly, patting the desktop beside him. He scooched over in his chair to make room without looking up from his drawing, trying to get one of the drip marks curved in just the right way. 

He was vaguely aware of the sound of rustling behind him, and then Gerard sliding into his view, ass first, as he settled into place on the desk. Frank could feel him watching, but he didn’t say anything. Gerard had a nice etiquette about these things. He wasn’t one to distract someone when they were clearly in the zone. 

But Frank wasn’t disciplined enough to keep his own head down. He finished the line he was on before angling the paper so Gerard could see it properly. “Like it so far?” he asked.

He looked up at Gerard and a warmth spread through his chest at the sight of his expression: brows creased, right corner of the mouth pulled up into a smile, eyes bright and excited. “Yeah. Fuck, Frankie, I really do.”

“What about the size?” He laid the paper down backwards on the middle of Gerard’s thigh. It wasn’t a giant tattoo, but it certainly wasn’t tiny either, maybe five inches high. 

“Yeah,” he said. “I think that’s good. It looks right. Don’t you think?”

Frank blinked. Gerard’s question was lost on him, because he had just noticed something now that he was paying attention his legs. “You… You know you didn’t… You only have to shave the part you’re getting tattooed,” he stammered, the drawing sliding out of his grip and fluttering back onto the desk. Gerard was perched on the edge of the desk in his underwear, swinging his feet, and his legs were bare. Like, completely bare. Like, smooth.

“Right,” he said, and Frank couldn’t help but reach out to touch his shin, feeling the soft, smooth skin under his fingers like it was the first time he’d ever touched him at all. “I just figured… I mean, I had the razor, so, you know, might as well…”

Frank looked up at him open-mouthed in disbelief, but Gerard was wearing his little nonplussed half-smile that Frank often encountered when Gerard made a decision that seemed baffling to Frank but perfectly reasonable to Gerard himself. “Uh huh,” he managed, realizing then that he was still holding onto his leg and moving his thumb in small, slow circles on his skin, marveling at the texture. It was surprisingly addicting. Gerard wasn’t a particularly hairy person to begin with, but damn, shaving had really brought him to a new level. His legs even caught the light differently, practically gleaming in the lamplight and drawing Frank in like a moth to a flame. His finger drew a line from Gerard’s ankle to his knee, and then his lips followed suit. He cradled Gerard’s calf in his hands and dragged his parted lips along his shin, groaning as he felt his jeans tighten.

“I didn’t know this was a kink of yours,” Gerard teased, but Frank could hear the hitch in his breath as he ran his hand up his thigh, squeezing.

“Fuck, neither did I.” His brain was working, trying to figure out if there was a good way that he could manage to fuck Gerard before doing the tattoo. He could feel already what it would be like to hold his legs in his hands while he pounded him into the damn mattress, or the smooth, soft skin against the sides of face as Gerard’s legs rested on his shoulders. His tongue flicked out to lick the side of his knee, and yeah, he’d pretty much made up his mind that he was going to go for it. It was worth it. 

Or he would have gone for it if not for Gerard’s foot tapping impatiently against his chest. “Frank,” he whined above him. He pushed against his chest and Frank sat back reluctantly, resisting the urge to pout. “We gotta finish the job. I’m not gonna be this brave forever.”

Frank’s finger traced a line up his ankle suggestively. “But I could relax you,” he insisted, giving Gerard his best attempt at bedroom eyes. 

“ _Frank_.”

Much to the disappointment of the semi in his jeans, Frank sighed and took his hands off Gerard, grumbling under his breath about the unfairness of it all as he rolled away from him to start unpacking his things. Bullshit Gerard didn’t know what he was doing when he’d shaved both his legs. This was all beginning to feel like a set up, but whenever Frank looked back at him, Gerard was still watching him and looking the picture of virgin-skinned innocence, though Frank swore he could see the beginnings of a smirk tugging at one side of his mouth. 

“How do you turn this thing on anyway? Oh!”

Frank had brought a little bluetooth speaker to distract them. It was probably a good idea in the long run but right now Frank was having instant regrets. 

“ _Come with me, stay the night. You say the words, but boy it don’t feel right_ ,” Gerard sang in his best JoJo impression, giving Frank face and pointing dramatically at him as if he were the object of the song. 

“You can’t play that song. I hate it,” Frank deadpanned, setting up his inks on the mini-fridge. 

Gerard rolled his eyes. “Well it’s not my fault you have bad taste. It’s my Spotify, my choice.” 

“Yeah,” Frank shrugged. “You’re right. I’m just the guy who’s going to permanently scar your skin for life. It’s probably not important to keep me happy.”

Gerard huffed and muttered complaints under his breath while Frank tried to hide a smile. 

“Fine. Here,” he said as the opening riff of “Nervous Breakdown” filtered through the speaker, Gerard’s knee bouncing automatically with the rolling drum entrance. 

  
_I’m about to have a nervous breakdown. My head really hurts._

“Nope,” Frank said, stacking his rubbing alcohol and bandages and gloves next to the inks. “Can’t play that one either.” 

“Oh, Christ. Fucking _why_? You love Black Flag.” He poked meaningfully at Frank’s tattooed bicep with his bare toe. 

“Exactly,” he said with a grin. His hand shot up to tickle Gerard’s foot and he was rewarded with a surprised squeak as Gerard yanked it back, accidentally running into the desk lamp on the recoil so that its shade swung violently, throwing shadows back and forth across the room. “I’ll be too hyped. You have to play something chill, but not too chill.” 

Gerard frowned. “I think this sounds like a bunch of bullshit.”

Frank sighed dramatically as he turned back to his equipment. “I guess you’re the one that gets to find out when the needle’s on you.”

Frank beamed at the scowl Gerard threw him and set to work finishing the detail on the stencil, pointedly ignoring his griping as he shuffled through his music collection except to utter a, “Hush, I’m sketching,” which seemed to only make the griping worse. Eventually they settled on a mix of The Cure which seemed to satisfy both of them. It at least kept Frank from breaking out into a sweat each time he drew a line, seeing all the imperfections of this line that would be on Gerard forever. 

It felt like too soon until he was pressing the stencil carefully against his thigh, telling Gerard to look in the mirror, and then Gerard was pulling him into a crushing hug and breathing, “It’s exactly what I wanted.” And Frank was having to coax him back onto the desk because now they had to actually put the damn thing on, and by the time he was getting his machine set up and wiping down Gerard’s skin, he was hit with a wave of “holy fuck, what are we doing?” 

Gerard seemed to be hit by it, too. He’d gone quiet while Frank did his final prep, no longer humming along with Robert Smith. His hand twitched when the cold alcohol pad touched his skin. “How much does it hurt really? If you could compare.”

Frank sighed. “It’ll hurt,” he said truthfully, pulling on gloves. Gerard’s eyebrows knitted together in a way that told Frank he’d hoped he would say something different. “But you’re getting it in a pretty safe area. It’ll hurt, but it’s not going to rattle you. It’s like something hard is scratching you. And, I mean, something hard IS scratching you, but you get it. It’s not that bad, I promise. You can take it. I wouldn’t do it if I thought you couldn’t.” 

Gerard nodded and worried his lip thoughtfully. “Will it hurt more than the time I stage dived and no one caught me?”

Frank chuckled and rolled his eyes. “No. Not even close.”

“Will it hurt more than when Mikey spilled coffee on me while I was driving?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“Yes.” Gerard gasped like he was shocked and Frank swatted at his shin in rebuke. “You know you were being dramatic about that. Your skin was barely pink!” 

Gerard huffed. “The woman who sued McDonald’s for that _same_ thing won half a million fucking dollars!”

“Yeah, and she had third degree burns and not just a patch of skin that was _slightly_ warmer than the rest of it. But if you want I’ll call Mikey and tell him to expect an e-mail from your lawyer tomorrow,” Frank said with a cheeky grin as he reached over to his neatly arranged supplies and grabbed a package for a fresh needle, ripping it open a moment later to install it.

“Fuck!” he heard Gerard gasp above him, and when he looked up at his face, his eyes were wide as saucers in his pale, stricken face, staring at the bare needle. Frank grabbed his hand where he was white-knuckling it against the edge of the desk and stroked his thumb across his fingers.

“You don’t have to do it,” he said seriously. “We can stop right now and it’ll be fine.” Gerard’s giant eyes shifted from the needle to Frank’s face, and he gave his hand a squeeze. “I mean it. I can put this all away. We can turn on that baking show you like and order a pizza and eat the whole fuckin’ thing. Whatever you want.” He dipped his head to kiss Gerard’s knee, his lips lingering longer than was strictly needed because he still hadn’t gotten over how hot it was to touch his now smooth skin, and he thought he could smell the faint scent of some fruity shaving cream hanging on him.

Gerard was still and quiet for a moment before he groaned, sliding his fingers into Frank’s hair. “No,” he sighed. “It’s fine. I’m fine. I can… I can do this. I want to. And you like pineapple on your pizza anyway. That’s fucking gross.” 

Frank was smiling when he picked his head up, and Gerard returned the expression, though Frank could see his hesitance. “You’re gonna be fine, I promise. It won’t be as bad as you think.” He bent to kiss his knee one more time before turning his attention back to the needle. “And pineapple is delicious, so fuck you,” he said as he slid the needle into place, covering it with the barrel and securing it only a moment later, and he could feel Gerard relax as soon as it was out of sight. 

He switched on the machine, gave the pedal an experimental tap, and didn’t miss the way Gerard flinched when he heard the loud buzzing for the first time. Frank looked up at him with more than a little concern. “You’re gonna stay still, right?” 

“Yes! I swear,” he insisted hurriedly, flailing his hands. “Momentary lapse. All good.” 

Frank frowned and gave the pedal another tap, but this time Gerard was still, though his eyes were the size of saucers. Fine. Frank could work with that. 

He shifted in his chair, making final adjustments as he got Gerard’s skin pulled taught in just the right way. 

“I’m gonna give you a countdown, okay?” he said, slipping into a business-like tone which might seem out of place on him to anyone who hadn’t worked with him on fine tuning a song before. “Counting down from 3, and when I get to 1, I need you to breathe in, okay?” Frank glanced up for confirmation. Gerard’s mouth was set in a firm line, his eyebrows slightly drawn together. He was determined. He nodded and Frank flashed him a quick smile before bending back over his task, mustering his own courage to mark Gerard’s flesh for life, which felt a lot like taking a Sharpie to a Van Gogh and insisting you were going to improve it. 

He picked a spot, holding the machine poised over one of the curves of the earth on the stencil. His weight shifted to press down on the power pedal so now the buzzing was constant, competing with what sounded like “10:15 Saturday Night” coming from Frank’s little bluetooth speaker. Frank glanced up at Gerard again, catching his eye to give him the countdown. “3, 2, 1, breathe,” he said evenly, and on “breathe” he brought the needle down without a moment’s hesitation. 

Frank hadn’t necessarily been expecting Gerard to scream, but there did seem to be something anticlimactic about how well Gerard took the first bite of the needle. He sucked in a breath right when Frank told him to, and maybe held it a moment too long before all the air wooshed out of his lungs again and he drew in another breath without Frank even having to remind him. 

“How are you doing?” he asked after a moment, not daring to look up from his work. 

“Fine” Gerard answered too quickly, and when Frank chanced a glance up at him he sighed. “It… it doesn’t hurt as much as I thought, but I… I can’t look or I’ll freak out.” Frank felt his muscles tense underneath him as he said it and heard a hitch in his breathing before he continued, voice strained, “I’ll be fine. I just can’t think about it too much.”

“Well think about something else,” Frank suggested. “Tell me what happened at Thought Bubble.” 

“I can’t.” Gerard’s voice was edging towards distress, pitching higher. “I just… just feel it. It feels like a fucking needle and I can’t think about anything else. How long do you think this will take, Frank?”

“Not long, I promise.” He was already most of the way through the outline of the earth when he leaned over to grab some more ink. Gerard was looking away again and Frank took advantage of the opportunity to casually wipe away the blood seeping out of the tattooed lines. His stomach felt twisted with guilt. He knew Gerard wanted this, but he felt so bad that he was the reason Gerard’s face was three shades paler than normal, every muscle in his body taut. 

He kneaded the knuckles of his free hand rhythmically into Gerard’s thigh as he got back to work on the outline. “Did I tell you I’m touring with Geoff later in the year?” 

“Geoff?” Gerard sounded surprised, perking up. “Geoff Rickly?” 

“Fuck yeah!” Frank felt himself grinning involuntarily. At least he’d managed to hit on something that directed Gerard’s attention somewhere other than his thigh. “Thursday’s finally doing some shows again and he asked me to open for their winter dates in the Northeast.”

“Holy _shit_.”

It was easier going from then on out. Frank managed to coax Gerard into chattering on about Thursday and copy-cat Thursday bands and reverb pedals and by the time Frank was wiping away the last of the excess ink, Gerard was deep into an explanation of how marine mammals communicate and didn’t seem to care at all that Frank hadn’t uttered much more than a few agreeable grunts in the last five minutes. 

“Gee,” he finally said, interrupting his train of thought. “It’s done.” Gerard went still again, and Frank felt himself start to fucking sweat because Christ, what if he hated it? But when he glanced at Gerard in trepidation, he found he was still looking resolutely away. “Gee?”

“I’ll look,” he said defensively, feeling Frank frowning at the back of his skull. “I just… I really want it to be right, you know? Like I don’t want to ruin the first time I look at it by being too casual or at a weird angle. I want to see it all at once and be in a good headspace and--”

“Oh. My. God.” 

Gerard yelped in surprise as Frank stood and hauled him off the desk. “Fucking close your eyes and stay here,” he said, dragging Gerard across the room and planting him in front of the mirrored closet door. Gerard’s hands were balled into fists, his eyes squeezed shut as Frank left him there to rummage in his bag for the hand mirror he knew was in there somewhere. He fished it out from underneath a dirty t-shirt and went back to put it in Gerard’s hand. “Keep ‘em shut,” he murmured as he arranged Gerard carefully, pulling his arm up to the right position so the mirror was reflecting at the correct angle, tilting his head with careful fingertips against his jaw so he wouldn’t accidentally catch a glimpse of the full length mirror first. He stepped back when he was satisfied. “Okay,” he said. “You can open them now, you huge freak.” 

Gerard opened his eyes at a fucking snail’s pace and Frank resisted the urge to complain about it. “Oh,” he said when he finally got the courage to look. Gerard stared into the hand mirror silently for an uncomfortable length of time, his expression unreadable, his fingers subtly tilting the mirror into different angles. His free hand reached down to his thigh, tracing around the edges of the fresh ink. Frank felt his palms go clammy while he watched. His heart was hammering like he’d run a mile. He wanted to say something, ask what he thought at least and get it all over with, but it was like his throat was stuck together and he couldn’t even begin to get the words out. 

By the time Gerard lowered the hand mirror and turned to take in the sight of himself in the closet door, Frank thought his knees were going to fucking buckle. He stood on his toes, flexing his thigh muscles, pulled slightly at the skin around it to see the tattoo stretch in new directions, and okay, Frank was seriously about to keel over if Gerard didn’t say something soon. He was never the kind to be this fucking quiet.

Frank licked his dry lips and forced his throat to unstick. He couldn’t handle the silence any longer. “Gera--”

“It’s perfect.” 

Frank paused. Their words had gotten tangled up in each other and it took Frank’s ears a moment longer to process. “What?” 

“It’s perfect,” Gerard said again with confidence, looking Frank dead in the eye. And if his knees weren’t going to buckle before, they were definitely about to go then, but Gerard had his arms around him before they got the chance and was pressing their mouths together firmly, swallowing a pathetic whimper that came out of Frank as he clung to him. 

“Glad-- I’m glad y--” Frank tried to speak between kisses but Gerard kept cutting him with the press of his lips, pinning him against the wall, and eventually Frank gave up and caved to Gerard’s tongue in his mouth, his hands squeezing his waist and bicep. 

By the time they pulled apart, Frank was breathless and Gerard was flushed as he leaned his forehead against Frank’s, grinning like a mad man. “I never want to do it again, but I love it. It feels like… like a talisman. And I get to keep it forever. And when I’m 110 and they’re putting me in my fucking coffin, it’ll still be there and I love that, Frankie. I fucking love that. Thank you.” His words came out in a rush and he gripped Frank’s hands tight in his own, and Frank’s heart gave a painful throb. 

“Well nobody will see it unless you get buried in short shorts,” he said, earning a high pitched giggle from Gerard.

“Who says I wouldn’t?”

Gerard was still smiling, with a look in his eyes that any other time would have made Frank worry he was high again. But he was also warm and close and in his space, and Frank was a sucker and couldn’t help it, so he tipped his head up and greedily stole more kisses from him, one hand travelling down to his ink-free thigh to touch the smooth skin again. Gerard sighed and pressed up even closer so the air between them felt humid and superheated. Frank was losing his head, ready to melt into a puddle at Gerard’s feet if that’s what he wanted, when suddenly he felt Gerard’s other leg brush against his own and he jolted out of the haze. “Whoa, wait,” he said, pushing Gerard back with a gentle hand on his chest. “We’re not done here yet. I’ve still gotta wrap you up.”

Gerard pouted, his eyebrows pulling down at the corners for maximum pity. “I don’t wanna cover it up. I worked so hard to get it, and it’s so pretty. Can’t we leave it uncovered?” he asked. 

“Nope.” Frank pushed him off and nudged him reluctantly back in the direction of the desk. “Not unless you want to get an infection and have to deal with even more needles.”

The look of horror on Gerard’s face told Frank exactly how he felt about that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not too thrilled with this chapter, but the next one will be more fun and also the end. The trains must keep running.
> 
> Also the tattoo Gerard gets is a version of [this drawing](http://raytorosavedmyhair.tumblr.com/post/138587437954/frank-ieros-love-letter-to-alternative-press) that Frank did.


End file.
